I hope you can tell, if you're doing good or doing well
by Pawhedge
Summary: Tricking the education system into thinking that she was somehow a sane, mentally sound, innocent fifteen year old was not the hardest thing Homura had ever done. But it should be remarked that this was less a statement of the difficulty of the task, and moreso one on the difficulty of her life. M for kyoko swearing a bit, and thoughts of suicide.


Tricking the education system into thinking that she was somehow a sane, mentally sound, innocent fifteen year old was not the hardest thing she had ever done. But it should be remarked that this was less a statement of the difficulty of the task, and moreso one on the difficulty of her life.

Because it was very challenging. Homura had spent almost the whole summer preoccupied with theories and strategy and many foolish ideas, attempting to find some work around to the school counselling system. It was an obvious statement of fact, that therapy should be avoided at all costs. Not so much because realistically it could only make a very small dent in her broken psyche, but because it would draw far too much attention. There was no lie convincing enough to cover up the disturbing truth of her twelve year journey into depression and likely, insanity. She had not gone to incredible lengths to investigate it, but she assumed she had some form of severe PTSD, and depression. Suicidal was a weird term for someone who had not killed themselves in a business in which it was the most common method of dying, but well.

In her first few timelines, including her original, she probably had anxiety- likely stemming from her disjointed upbringing and debilitating illness, as well as her reluctance to seek out any sort of mental or physical help for the issue. She's not quite aware of what might have happened to her anxiety, but from her shaky memory she cannot claim to carry it with her any longer. Which is one thing at least, that is on her side.

Unfortunately, fate had decided to give her an unfairly poor hand, as was enormously fond of doing. It was one thing to avoid interest in her time loops, as she could predict almost any question or hurdle thrown her way by predictable adults- but her life now, as beautiful and fulfilling as it was, led to great unpredictability. She had no way to prepare for conversations, for switches of topic or light jokes- all things she understood distantly did not cause much trouble for other people. However, since the life she could share openly was completely fabricated she would have to rely on deception and improvisational skills to trick those around her. Neither traits were ones she was practiced in to say the least.

Not to mention she was an exceptionally traumatized individual. She had broken into the school over the summer, attempting to test her own limits, and had quickly- well succumb to her own delusions. Kyoko Sakura was fond of calling her episodes 'repeats'- an concept that amused her somewhat, as if she were some old and broken television lying destitute on the side of the road, looping the same commercial over and over. It was an apt metaphor. They occurred frequently, though less so now, that they had taken the steps to stop them before they started. She used to have quite the trouble waking up from sleep, being that as a magical girl, and therefor inhuman, she had never strictly needed to sleep. Therefor the only time she ever 'woke up' was when she restarted a timeline, and was reverted to lying prone on her bed. Needless to say, it was a feeling that filled her with despair so black she normally had to immediately hunt the first witch she could get her hands on (Izabel).

She would find herself awake, staring listlessly up at white curtains and warm sunshine, wishing for death. Tired. She would review her mental process, examine what faults lay in her previous timeline, and strive to correct them immediately. Should she sign out of the hospital and waste an hour and twelve minutes, or should she break free and potentially gain inspection from authorities? Should she establish contact with Madoka immediately, or wait for her 'first' day at school? Should she seek out Mami? Obtain as many grief seeds as possible? Study or research some ultimate weapon, or possibly just try to better understand some aspect of her surroundings? She gets up, only to promptly fall on her face as she unexpectedly trips over a prone Sayaka Miki on the floor. That had been enough to alert her subconscious to the reality of her situation- that the looping was over, that everything and everyone was okay.

That was the first time she had 'repeated'. It was very apparently not the last.

The school in particular forced a sort of hard reset to her mind, bringing her back to the first day that had failed to be one for so many years. And it was not as simply solved by blackout curtains and glow-in-the-dark stars pinned to her ceiling to remind her where she was- the schools appearance itself was the problem.

Her friends (what a thrill it was, to call them that, even if just privately) had hoped to brainstorm some alternative to her hopeless situation, but had not come up with much.

"Why don'tcha just get home schooled? Then ya' won't have'ta be in that freaky fuckin' buildin' in the first place." Kyoko Sakura had helpfully suggested. Homura had only shaken her head solemnly.

" It is impossible. In this timeline my old parents would not recognize me. In fact, I suspect some of Madoka's magic may have erased their memories. I therefore have no home and cannot be homeschooled." Homura had thought that it was a perfectly reasonable deduction to make, for the ruckus it caused. Kyoko Sakura was strangely elated to learn that they were both now technically homeless- her bizarre sense of humor seeming to escape Homura's understanding once again. Madoka had been overwhelmingly upset to not only hear that Homura had been living basically on the streets by herself, and that somehow her wish might have damaged Homura's fictional loving relationship with her parents. She had been quick to gently assure her that her parents had never been too fond of her in the first place, and were probably filled with unknown relief, to which her dear Madoka had responded just as promptly with tears.

She admits now, looking back, it had been not the right thing to say exactly.

* * *

Homura's one messed up kid. This is sort of unfinished right now, but I hope still enjoyable!


End file.
